


If I Find My Way

by 87sighs



Category: The Bold Type
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 09:43:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15838689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/87sighs/pseuds/87sighs
Summary: Get Together. Fall Apart. Start Over.





	1. Chasing Pavements

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Chasing Pavements" - Adele

You're rattled, unsteady in a way you have only felt a few times since Paris, but you hide it well. This isn't your night, you're here to support a friend, so you smile and congratulate her on a beautiful show, make small talk with other artists and acquaintances. 

 

Besides, you can't even be sure it was her. You'd recognize her walk, her smile that can brighten any room, but there are too many people and you convince yourself that it's not the one woman you're suddenly wishing to see again in person.  

 

It's Sutton that you see instead, clearly across the room. She has a drink in hand, talking and laughing with a woman wearing braided hair, posture relaxed as she stands with her back to you, sipping from her glass. 

 

Kat. 

 

And though you're caught mid-conversation, seeing the two only in your periphery, you know the moment she alerts Kat to your presence. You notice the stiffening of her back and the shake of her head, the way Sutton gently curls her hand around Kat's bicep. She gives a short laugh a moment before you're dragged away to meet someone else, a moment that is still more time than you needed to realize you were foolish to wish for anything. 

 

What could you possibly say? 

 

{}{}{}

 

You can count the months and exact number of days - the change of seasons and the cities between - since you flew back across the Atlantic with unshed tears nearly choking you, your only certainties a new work visa and a promise from Firuze to help you pack your things. Technically, you had only agreed that you would move out and find your own apartment, but the breakup was inevitable.

 

When there is a lull you say as calmly as you can "Kat is here." 

 

Firuze nods, sips her sparkling water. "That's not surprising." She doesn't elaborate, doesn't comment on your agitation, just waits. "You should talk to her."

 

You don't.

 

{}{}{}

 

Sleep is difficult, and the morning isn't better. You pray  _ fajr _ , drink tea but skip breakfast, go through your usual routine with an unsettling edge. You don't have any commitments today, which leaves you too much time to think. 

 

You go to the studio and get lost in your process, finding some catharsis in your drawing. It's hours later when you finally stop, surprised by Firuze's appearance. Quietly, she puts out several containers with food, so you push away your work and thank her. 

 

"You temperamental artists are all alike," she says. 

 

You both take time for midday prayer.

 

Something inside you loosens. You apologize to your body for mistreating it today. You ask Firuze about her day, grateful to have her on your team again. And she listens to you, offers a kind ear not just as a manager but as a friend. It feels good to talk, to cry. 

 

Later, when Firuze hugs you and repeats "Talk to her" you know she's right. And you want to more than anything. So you scroll through your short contact list and open a new text conversation. 

 

_ Kat, I'm sorry we did not speak last night. I hope you're doing well. _

 

You pause before typing again. 

 

_ I would love to get together to catch up. _

 

A deep breath and you send it. 

 

{}{}{}

 

It takes Kat hours to respond. Long enough for you to doubt yourself, to understand Firuze's frustration at you still not being a phone person. The waiting is terrible in it's own right, but you know that Kat  _ is _ a phone person, a technology-dependent Millennial cliché. A busy social media director doesn't go hours without her phone. You tell yourself not to read too much into it, but she has every right not to respond. 

 

When it does come, the reply is simple.

 

_ Sure. I'm free for lunch tomorrow. _

 

You allow yourself a tiny smile. Sleep comes a little easier. 

 

{}{}{}

 

Instagram does not do Kat justice. Brief glances across a crowded gallery did not prepare you at all.

 

She has always been beautiful to you, round cheeks and bright eyes, that easy smile, but seeing her up close after so long makes you yearn for a camera to capture every detail. She steps into your hug, kisses your cheeks, but you don't miss the way her gaze lowers or how her smile falters a tiny bit as she pulls out her chair. 

 

This is still painful, even more for her, no matter how civil your breakup. 

 

It seems like minutes pass, you both just looking at each other.

 

"It's good to see you, Kat." 

 

"You too. I was, uh, really surprised you texted me." 

 

You smile, hoping to ease her nervousness. "I am glad you said yes. I wasn't sure how to approach you at the gallery, but...I wanted to see you." 

 

"Can't believe it’s been so long." 

 

You hum in agreement. But everything happens for a reason, you believe, everything in due time.

 

Conversation is easy, safe if you focus on work. You're interested in her work at  _ Scarlet _ , silently proud of how much she's grown and how well her department is doing. Although you primarily use your twitter and Instagram accounts for work, you do still follow Kat's. You've checked in from time to time so you also know about the trips with Jane and Sutton, the bars and drag shows, Pride.  

 

At some point Kat gets a message, her attention divided while she taps a quick answer and you keep talking about a photoshoot you had done with activists in The Bronx. You don't have the right to ask but you wonder. Whether it's a girlfriend - or boyfriend - possibly Leila or that tattooed singer who had convinced her to go vegan for a day. You only ask if she needs to leave. You're both finished eating, and she probably needs to get back to her office anyway.

 

Kat turns over her phone, leans forward with a gentle smile. "No. Go on." 

 

When you do part, you feel lighter, peaceful. But you don't allow yourself to hope for anything more. 

 

{}{}{}

 

At first it's just occasional texts, nothing too intrusive. Then Kat 'likes' some of your posts, Firuze tells you. You think it's more as a friend than manager, but she doesn't say more, doesn't question when you choose to make your own instead of letting her handle it. 

 

Your mother definitely notices the change in your demeanor. It's not in her nature to let it go without remark. You've never felt the need to share much of your romantic life, but you know she worries and wishes you would settle down. 

 

You speak of your siblings and the new events in their lives. As always she hopes that you are safe, and you reassure her that you are as safe as you can be under these circumstances, that you have a small group of close friends who take care of each other.

 

And when she sets down her cup of tea, eyes crinkled with joy as she talks about how pleased she is to know you're doing well, you take a deep breath. 

 

"It's not just my photography,  _ maman _ . Do you remember the woman I told you about? Kat." There is recognition in her eyes and serenity that allows you to keep talking. "We have reconnected."

 

She listens, supports you in a way perhaps only a mother can. And when she says, "This one is special, Adena dear," tears flow immediately. 

 

You laugh, wipe your messy cheeks. "She is."

 

{}{}{}

 

It’s one of your favority memories of your time together: 

 

_ Kat finds a PBS documentary called  _ Our Man In Tehran _ and wants to watch it with you. But only if you want, only if it's not White Western bullshit, she says.  _

 

_ Indeed it is filtered through a Western lens, a Dutch journalist who fell in love with an Iranian woman and moved to the country. There are parts that you do not like, but you also find it familiar.  _

_ Kat is more interested in asking you questions anyway, so you talk more than watch. She has always been curious about your life and your faith, so you tell her about what home was like growing up, the beauty of saffron fields, being inspired by Hafez and Rumi’s poetry. She is precious, and you promise to read some of their work to her. _

 

_ You laugh and kiss and she listens to you talk, tries to see you, and you want to let her. _

 

You know what you've given up by leaving home, but you also cherish what you've gained.

 

{}{}{}

 

You need to call, to hear Kat's voice. You've been spending more time together in person, and you're sure now. You're ready.

 

Kat is obviously surprised when you invite her to your studio, but she accepts immediately and you think that is a good sign. 

 

Her braids are pulled up into a bun, and as she walks closer you admire the column of her neck and the skin revealed by the undone buttons of her shirt. Her hands are pushed deep in the pockets of her jeans, and though you love the way Kat looks dressed up - she is an absolute vision - you think that this casual version of her is your favorite. Imperfect, confident, soft.

 

She follows your lead, asking questions about some of the pieces, content to spend time with you. 

 

"There is something I want to show you." 

 

Everything takes on a reddish glow as you shut the door to the dark room. Kat helps you develop photos, marveling at the way the images slowly appear like magic. Moments of life that only become clear with time. You tell her about the queer youth from the community center in Brooklyn and the Muslim girls sitting on their stoop, playing near their home. It's not even a project that you're working on. They are just people that you spend time with, the best of them reminding you of the woman beside you. The stories make Kat frown with sadness and grin and laugh. 

 

You want nothing more than to kiss her. 

 

"These are amazing," she whispers, absorbing it all.

 

You wait until the final picture is done. She glances at you in the sudden quiet. 

 

"Kat...I have to thank you. You are a big part of this. I have found fulfillment in ways that I did not expect. Putting down roots here, really feeling like I belong...There is beauty here that I did not truly appreciate until our time apart. You inspired that in me."

 

For a moment you think to reach for her, but Kat’s eyes are glossy with tears.

 

"Well, this is, uh-" She clears her throat, gestures aimlessly. "This is amazing, like I said, and I'm- I'm really happy for you, Adena."

 

It’s obvious she makes an excuse to leave. But you don't have the right to question or push. Your feelings can't come at Kat's expense. 

 

{}{}{}

 

You text later: _ I'm sorry that I made you uncomfortable. That was not my intent. _

 

Kat replies:  _ i know _

 

{}{}{}

 

"I need to talk." 

 

It comes out in a rush, almost more of a question than statement, but Kat doesn't barge inside. 

You had been so engrossed in your editing, lulled by the rainstorm, that the buzzer had literally made you jump. Now you simply let her in, offer her a dry towel. 

 

"I'm sorry for running away."

 

"Kat, you don't have to apologize. I understand."  

 

"Do you?" She bites her lip, eyes darting around the room before settling on yours again. "I  _ loved  _ you. Adena...why did you take me there?" 

 

Fragile. That's the word that comes to your mind. So you start with the simplest truth. 

 

"I think about you all the time." She doesn't look surprised by this, doesn't withdraw, so you keep talking. “It seems I have always been chasing adventure or love or some other feeling. Then I found you and-” 

 

“Adena, you’ve- Never mind.” She shakes her head, clearly frustrated.

 

“Please. Say what you need to say.”

 

“You’ve said this before, that I was special to you.”

 

The hurt in her voice stings, knowing you are the cause. You stare at your hands, choose your next words carefully. 

 

"Kat, when I returned to Paris the first time, I could not work because all I thought about was you. Then so many things happend between us - new, exciting things. After we returned to New York, I assumed inspiration would come as it usually did because I was happy with you and the life we were building. When it didn’t I began to feel lost, and I hid that from you. I became so focused on what I was giving up by being in this country and truly settling, what it meant for my art and my identity.” You take her hands, encouraged by the fact that she doesn’t shy away. “Kat, I needed to find other reasons to be here, to feel alive, and I did."  

 

"Best breakup ever." 

 

You let her have the moment. She has been so receptive to you, and you hope she will understand, even through the pain. The water coming down her face could be tears or rain, so you don't say anything more at first.

 

Then: “I can’t give you one single reason why I behaved as I did, and I am truly sorry for hurting you that way. I think we just met at the wrong time.”

 

"And now?" she finally asks. 

 

"I’m still in love with you, Kat. I have lived with you, and I have lived without you. I know what I want. If that chapter of your life has closed then I will accept it and be your friend...but I hope there is a chance we can try again."

 

She moves away, and you follow every shift, try to read her expressions. But you are helpless, waiting.

 

"I need time to think. It's not a no, I just..."

 

"Okay," you reassure her, softly, because it is. 

 

Kat nods, exhales. 

 

You escort her to the door feeling hopeful. 

 

{}{}{}

 

"Adena?"

 

She has caught you off guard for the second time today. You don't see anything that she left behind, but you go quickly to open the door.

 

"I thought about it." 

 

And her lips cover yours. 

 

Your shock lasts a millisecond, your heart stops a little longer, but nothing could stop you from kissing back just as fiercely. She is damp and cool, her mouth hot. You have missed this so much. Between kisses she mumbles something. It's too much effort trying to understand, but you feel it. Her love. You hold her tighter, feel the wild beating of her heart. 

 

Eventually she pulls back. Your hand cups the back of her neck, holding her close, tears flowing freely, and she rests her forehead against yours. You lean into her touch, thankful.

 

Neither of you lets go.

 

{}{}{}

 

Things are not perfect - you know you have more growing to do - but they are comfortable, and there is more honesty between you now. It's better, but many things are the same. You know how she likes her coffee and how much she hates to cry. She folds your laundry and gives you a neat little space at her apartment; she brings you lunch at the studio, some days when your creativity doesn’t leave room for much else. Except her. 

 

She spends more time with your circle of friends - some artists, other queer Muslims. The people who break fasts with you, who support and encourage you but aren’t  _ impressed  _ by you. They understand exactly why you both are wary of police. They tease you about getting fashion tips from your girlfriend’s magazine.

 

You spend as much time as you can together outside of work and friends too. You had absolutely meant it when you said you wouldn’t come between Kat and them. And you know firsthand just how hard Kat works, have seen the tiredness wash over her face in the light of her laptop. But you make it priority to suggest time just for you two. You tell Kat how much you appreciate her even when you are apart.

 

Firuze jokes about you being easier to work with now, which is why you don't understand how she could propose this job to you. A human interest story about Muslim political candidates. It's an amazing opportunity, but it's also out of state and would take at least one week to shoot. 

 

Yes, there are times when you need space to work or focus on new inspiration - sometimes you just need to recharge - but never for that long. Not anymore.

 

Kat is on your couch watching television. You lower your voice, try to explain to Firuze that you can't pack up and leave on a whim anymore, that you have a girlfriend to consider. She accepts your answer even if she does let you know you aren't giving Kat enough credit.

 

Part of you thinks she is right, and when Kat notices your distraction and pauses the show, you talk to her, trust that your relationship really is better, stronger. 

 

"Babe," Kat says, and you immediately feel silly for worrying. "I always knew I'd have to share you with the world, and I'm okay with that...I just want you to be honest with me." 

 

You think about how lucky you are to have met Kat, to have her in your life again, so you tell her as much, watching the way she ducks her head. She always does, so you will keep telling her.

 

You burrow into her side, taking comfort in the way she pulls you in. Kat kisses your head, whispers, "I'll be here when you get back." 

 

She tells you to thank Firuze, and you can't even explain how big of an understatement that is but you absolutely will thank her.

 

{}{}{}

 

You tie your robe, leaving the steamy warmth of the bathroom after your shower, and are immediately surrounded by the aroma of food. Kat stands at the stovetop tending to her pans of turkey bacon and hash browns, and the eggs are surely baking inside the oven. You don't often indulge in big American breakfast, but the gesture is as sweet as the first time Kat did it and you are thoroughly charmed by her. 

 

And still somewhat disbelieving, which is why you take pictures. 

 

"For posterity."

 

"Ha ha."

 

She is convinced her egg whipping talents are a result of years of texting and being glued to her phone. You are less sure but you let her have the accomplishment since breakfast is her only specialty.

 

Kat pouts until you press your lips to hers in greeting. 

 

She stretches over to pull the bread from the toaster, and it gives you a wonderful view of long legs revealed by her sleep shorts while you pour your second cup of tea for the morning. You are distracted by the smoothness of her skin, her arms and hands as she plates and serves the food. Her very nice hands. 

 

"I got skills," she says, smiling and so pleased by her work. 

 

You hum, hiding behind your cup, "I know,” which makes her look your way.

 

You are less hungry for food.

 

{}{}{}

 

"Do you wanna have kids?

 

Your movements slow as you prepare for bed, though you're not completely surprised by the question. Kat had spent part of the day with you volunteering with your arts youth group. After you assured her that the kids were old enough to feed and clean themselves, which seemed obvious to you but your girlfriend was very serious. 

 

She is on her back staring at the ceiling, and you take time to consider your answer, not afraid of the silence between you. When you slip under the covers, she turns toward you. Her face is relaxed, and you reach for her, tangling your fingers together. 

 

"I don't think so. I might reconsider, but...it's not something I need to make my life feel complete." 

 

"Same." She  gives your hand a little squeeze. "And I mean, there's already so many kids that don't have good homes. I'd prefer adoption, I think."

 

"I didn't know that." She shrugs and says yeah in that uniquely Kat way of hers. Your girlfriend with such a big heart. "I do think we will be great aunties." 

 

"The  _ coolest _ . For sure." And she grins much like a child herself. "You'll help Sutton's kids learn French and all kinds of fancy stuff, and we're gonna give Jane's all the junk food they can handle, do all the stuff on her restricted list." 

 

"Oh no, poor Jane." 

 

Kat just rolls her eyes, continues her plotting, insists Jane will thank you eventually. You are laughing at her and with her, at the fact that she has thought about this. You recently celebrated your ten-month anniversary, and you are hopeful to get your green card. It warms your heart speaking of a future together. 

 

Your love is possibility. 

 

As you both settle down, you place your head on her chest. 

 

"We have an amazing life." 

 

She sighs. "Yeah, we do."

  
  


 


	2. Ms. 20Something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "20 Something" - SZA

You're not ready. Not even close. You weren’t the last three times you were near each other and not tonight either. Because yeah, Paris seems like forever ago but other times it still lingers like a nightmare you just woke up from. 

 

Sutton has that same look in her eye, and you're so glad she's your girl. 

 

"Well, she looks..."

 

You know she's lying, or at least trying to, and maybe if it was just some hookup you didn't give a shit about you'd let her go on but it's not. It's Adena. 

 

"What color?"  

 

"Red." 

 

You shake your head. 

 

"Now I know you're lying. She always looks good in red." You remember that clearly and a bunch of other stuff you'd rather forget. Sutton laughs a little, agrees, because she is incapable of lying about good fashion. "I love you for trying." 

 

"You wanna get out of here?"

 

"Nah, I'm cool. It was gonna happen some time, right?" 

 

You prepare yourself to turn around - to rub the salt in, you guess - see Sutton press her lips together. 

 

“What?”

 

"She just walked off with another woman." 

 

Your drink burns going down. "Perfect."

 

{}{}{}

 

It's been so long.  You haven’t seen her in months, been broken up even longer. Enough time for you to hire two new people, and for Sutton to get that raise she absolutely fucking earned. Jane's eggs are ice cubes. Long enough for Sex-dream Leila to become just your other friend Leila who you go out with sometimes because she knows a lot of queer spots.

 

And yeah there have been other people. You treated most of them like the distractions they were. You hit it off with a few people, too, but those relationships ended for one reason or another. 

 

The point is, you kept moving. You've got an awesome job and a busy life, and all of it was still waiting for you after Paris.

 

You remember:  _ “Kat, I’m really very sorry. I- this was never about you.”  _

 

_ “Yeah, you’ve made that pretty clear.”  _

 

_ “Kat-” _

 

_ “No, just- Look, I know I messed up, okay? I know that but why- why’d you let me think I could fix us?” _

 

She shook her head but you got nothing.

 

Before tonight, you thought you were over it. Over her. 

 

You're not.

 

{}{}{}

 

Jane promises to pull out that Snuggie you all love to laugh at from the back of her closet. It's tempting but you turn her down, say ‘bye to Sutton as you get in separate cabs. They send you goodnight texts.

 

The last time you'd really talked about your feelings, you were at dinner with your parents. And to say that you did the talking would be completely inaccurate. Your mom asked about Adena. You told her you'd broken up, hoped like hell to leave it at that. But Dr. Marcus Edison showed up and gave you a free session on how good relationships aren't just excitement and passion; they're hard work. 

 

You were so pissed. That he'd assume what you and Adena had wasn't real, that it wasn't the most mature, painful thing you'd ever felt. Like, yeah, you screwed it up badly, but you also tried  _ so _ hard. He and your mom both smiled, said love takes time and you'd find the right person someday. They didn't assume you would end up with a man. Didn’t matter. The wall had gone up. 

 

So you'd crashed with Sutton and Jane that night, got a little drunk, and the only thing you could think was that you wanted your own place. Somewhere with less of your parents' influence and lingering ghosts. You’d let them think you just needed a fresh start. 

 

It’s not that easy. 

 

You're spoiled, you know it. Accustomed to certain things. Too impulsive sometimes, still. But they'd promised- well, after they had stopping cackling at you using the word budget- they promised to help you make a plan and not to divorce you for not providing the type of lifestyle they’re used to. You figured out what bills you could afford to pay now and what you could save for in the future. 

 

You love your friends so fucking much.

 

And that's why you finally tell them about the texts. That Adena wants to see you in person and talk. This is the longest you've ever gone without answering someone. Just staring at it not knowing what to do. And-

 

"I can still hear you, you know." 

 

"Maybe you should sleep on it," Jane suggests. "That usually helps me."

 

You can't tell them that if you take your phone home, texts unanswered, you are literally going to be awake all night. 

 

So you grab it, say, "It's fine. We can get lunch, no pressure.  _ How are you? I'm good. How are you? Blah, blah. _ It'll be fine." 

 

You know the look they're giving each other but whatever. You send it. 

 

All night you toss and turn. You wake up on the wrong side of the bed.

 

{}{}{}

 

Adena still throws you off your game. She is so gorgeous, like, how is it even possible? 

 

You take your seat, try to remind yourself to breathe. It's just lunch. 

 

She smiles at you, thanks you for coming. As if you could deny her. 

 

You know what she's been up to, sort of. You still follow her social accounts so you know about her most recent photo series, that she's been featured in galleries in New York and LA and more. 

 

But what those posts and articles couldn't possibly tell you is how her perfume is the same scent that lingered on your bed sheets. That Adena's still so graceful in her movements. And you can tell she still thinks the way you pronounce Firuze's name is cute, because they’d both assured you it was not wrong just _so_ _American_.

 

It makes you feel silly being relieved that it was only her manager-friend and not a date at the gallery. Makes you feel dumb for being stuck in the past. You slipped too easily into the role of Adena El-Amin's awestruck girlfriend again. 

 

You respect the hell out of Adena and you'll always care for her, want her to be happy, but she is still human just like you.

 

So you relax after that, talk about work because you absolutely kick ass. 

 

Your phone vibrates a few times, and you only check just to make sure it isn't an emergency. It's Jane in the group chat sending you all kinds of positive emojis. 

 

And Sutton:  _ We love you babe. _

 

You can't help but smile and text back:  _ All good. Thanks. _

 

"Do you need to leave?" 

 

You can tell Adena's a little disappointed even though she apologizes for keeping you. But you're really interested in the project she's talking about, highlighting how art and activism work together. Today's kind of a light day for you anyway, and Angie can hold things down for awhile. 

 

So you put down your phone, tell her "No. Go on." 

 

She smiles like she's trying not to, red lips pursed together. 

 

You talk all afternoon it seems, but it still doesn't feel like enough time when you really do have to leave. 

 

The hug goodbye lasts a little longer than before.

 

{}{}{}

 

You and Adena start interacting on social media after that. You 'like' some of her art, and she shares on her accounts a  _ Scarlet  _ feature on this really dope street artist that you got introduced to at a party for Black creatives. 

 

You don't think much of it, but some of your followers do. Not your friends, the anonymous strangers that like your opinions, think you're attractive. Feel a personal interest in your love life. And you know you have a big platform, that you're considered an influencer, but you don't usually think about them. 

 

But the more you and Adena interact, the more peeping eyes emojis you notice and the  _ are y'all back together _ comments. The same people saying  _ Noooo what about Adena? _ every time you hang out with someone more than twice and post it. You still remember your mentions when you hung out with Kehlani. Ridiculous.

 

But there's also the private stuff they'll never intrude on. Mostly just short texts saying hello and how was your day? 

 

One of those days is really just frustrating as hell and two hours into it you're 100% done and ready to go home. You're in this meeting, and this one Safford jerk with a bad comb-over is just so condescending you want to scream. But you know you have to keep your cool. You're the most senior person from  _ Scarlet _ , so it's all on you. 

 

After, in the fashion closet, your head hurts and Jane gently reminds you to unclench, release the tension in your shoulders. Sutton's on assignment but promises to bring you lunch because you've still got hours to go. 

 

You tweet about microagressions, get harassed by trolls claiming you make everything about race. 

 

Your shoes and bra end up somewhere on the floor as soon as you get inside the door at home, and you don't have the energy to do anything.

 

_ I'm sorry you had a terrible day. Do you want to talk? _

 

_ Not really. Rather hear about your day.  _ You rethink that and send another.  _ But only if it didn't suck. _ Add an emoji to let her know you’re kidding. Mostly.

 

When Adena calls, you close your eyes and imagine her smiling.

 

{}{}{}

 

More than once you wanna ask her straight up  _ What are we? What are we doing? _ Because it feels like dating. The kind of slow, get-to-know-you, can't-wait-until-I-see-you-again kinda stuff you skipped over the first time. 

 

And you do feel like you know Adena better. Like you understand her maybe for the first time.

But then she leaves town for work and you’re reminded. 

 

Adena needs more than what you had. You're not enough. 

{}{}{}

 

Adena invites you to the studio. 

 

She'd warned you it's kind of a mess, and you don't really have any expectations. You're just happy to spend time with her, see her in her element in a way that you've rarely been allowed to do. It reminds you of your first meeting, seeing that fire in her eyes. Except now her face lights up with happiness as soon as she sees you. Her headscarf brushes your cheek as you hug, and god, you don't know how you can keep doing this. 

 

She shows you the finished work of some of the other people who use the space, gorgeous paintings of cityscapes and stuff you don't get at all but it looks cool. 

 

"There is something I want to show you," she says, and you notice the hesitation in her voice. 

 

But you follow, hear your own nervousness come out. "Woah, there's a dark room? This place is huge."

 

Inside, everything's all moody and red. Adena explains the process of developing film, smooth and patient, and you understand why the students she talks about would respond to her. You're reacting to the stories she's telling about wandering the city and meeting new people and getting involved with local groups through the arts. How she saw parts of you in so many people she met. 

 

She puts one hand on your back, the other guides you as you transfer a picture to the basin. It's amazing watching the shots become visible, slowly darkening until everything is clear. Adena helps you hang it to dry, and you're a little overwhelmed. By her words. Her arms and the warmth of her skin. 

 

You're afraid to break the silence. 

 

"Kat..." 

 

You consider stopping her because it's too much. Fear. Hope. You don't know where your head's at, but Adena's talking about how good this time alone has been for her, how fulfilled she is because you let her go.

 

She smiles, says, "You inspired that in me." 

 

Tears well up in your eyes, but you can't let them fall right now. So you clear your throat, focus on the pictures with their happy faces. 

 

"This is amazing, like I said, and I'm- I'm really happy for you, Adena."

 

She thanks you, but there's a small frown, and you know she's about to say more so you make up an excuse to leave. You can tell she's disappointed, but you can't do anything about that right now. 

 

On the way out you pause, look into her eyes when you say, truthfully, "I'm glad you found what you were looking for." 

 

{}{}{}

 

"And she was gonna say more probably, but I freaked out and ran." 

 

Sutton snuggles up on your right side on the bed. Jane's sitting cross-legged near your hip. 

 

"Because she was telling you exactly what you wanted to hear?" 

 

"I'm still so in love with her. I can be just friends 'cause she's amazing, you know, but it's still so  _ so  _ hard. But if she wants more I- What if- what if we date again and it still doesn't work?” You shrug. “I feel like I’ve got my shit together, but..." 

 

“Well, as someone who also thought she had her shit together,” Jane says, mom-friend yet again, “especially during that whole BenStripe situation, I can say that there will always be mistakes, even when you think you’re ready.”

 

"Yeah and you know what’s best for you, Kat.” Sutton kisses your shoulder. “We’ll support you no matter what.”

 

You mumble thanks but you’re done for the night though. Like, literally cannot talk about this anymore, so you push up onto your elbows and look at Jane. 

 

“Okay, question. When did your men get their own ship name?” You grin. “Girl, what did I miss?” 

 

Sutton bumps you. “You think everybody is family now.”

 

“Well.” You point to your chest. Then Sutton’s. “Tiny Jane?” 

 

She opens her mouth, but Sutton cuts in with “We all know  _ Scarlet  _ magazine and Jacqueline Carlyle are Jane’s true loves so-”

 

“Yaassss.”

 

{}{}{}

 

A downpour starts right when you get to Adena’s apartment. You press a little desperately on the buzzer, relieved when she lets you in.

 

“I need to talk.” 

 

You feel like you’re about to come apart, too big for your skin and bones. 

 

Inside, you’re thankful for the warmth and the soft towel. She offers you a seat too, but you can’t. 

 

“I’m sorry for running away.”

 

She’s already shaking her head, hands raised with forgiveness. “Kat, you don’t have to apologize. I understand.” 

 

“Do you?” It comes out harsher than you mean to, and you don’t think she gets just how much she’s turned you inside out. “I  _ loved  _ you, Adena.” 

 

She focuses on her hands clasped in front of her, and you fight the urge to reach out. You need to know where this is going. 

 

“Why did you take me there?”

 

"I think about you all the time," she starts slowly. “It seems I have always been chasing adventure or love or some other feeling. Then I found you and-” 

 

You interrupt, feeling this sick sense but “Never mind.” Adena tells you to speak anyway, so you do, remind her, “You’ve said this before, that I was special to you.” 

 

You hate the way your voice cracks. 

 

"Kat, when I returned to Paris the first time, I could not work because all I thought about was you. Then so many things happened between us - new, exciting things. After we returned to New York, I assumed inspiration would come as it usually did because I was happy with you and the life we were building. When it didn’t I began to feel lost, and I hid that from you. I became so focused on what I was giving up by being in this country and truly settling, what it meant for my art and my identity.”  

 

She is holding your hands. They’re soft, and you can’t tell which of you is shaking. You think you understand what she’s saying, that she needed to find balance. That she’s sorry for not letting you in. And you want to believe her so bad. 

“Best breakup ever.” You deflect, give yourself time to find the courage to whisper, “And now?”

 

“I’m still in love with you, Kat. I have lived with you, and I have lived without you. I know what I want. If that chapter of your life has closed then I will accept it and be your friend…” She waits, doesn’t let you look away. “I hope there is a chance we can try again."

 

For months you wanted nothing more, waited, hoping Adena wasn’t lost to you for good. That she’d choose you again and you could be happy together. You know you’re a better person, can be a good partner but- 

 

You shake your head, hear Adena’s sharp breath as you just try to process everything. 

 

“It’s not a no, I just…”

 

She nods. “Okay.”

 

Adena walks you to the door. 

 

{}{}{}

 

You tell yourself to think it through, take more time, but you already know. 

 

You love her. 

 

That's urgent as fuck. 

 

{}{}{}

 

You knock, call out her name. Her surprise is obvious when she throws open the door.

 

Water drips down the back of your neck, and time slows down waiting for you to do something. You exhale.

 

"I thought about it.”

 

And you pull her in.

 

The kiss is rushed, too desperate, but Adena still fits so perfectly against you. Her mouth and body so responsive. 

 

“It’s not closed, Adena,” you breathe against her neck. “I never could.” 

 

Her arms tighten around you. You feel her tears drip against your cheek.

 

It makes you pull back just enough to see her eyes. She is reluctant to let go, fingers around your neck, one arm around your waist. You reach up with one hand to wipe her tears, press your head against hers. 

 

She kisses you again, slow, with purpose.

 

{}{}{}

 

There are obvious changes. The people you hang with begin to feel like friends you share, not  _ yours  _ and  _ hers _ . You travel together when you can although now it’s more about planning than spontaneity.

 

But Adena is still so unreadable to you sometimes, and it's frustrating. She's a reserved, introspective woman, and she's spent a lot of years relying only on herself. And you try to remember that. It blows your mind that for all Adena's experience you're actually better at this communication thing sometimes. But at least you know what you bring to this relationship. 

 

And even though you've almost always been an open book, there are times when you hold back too. And you know that's your own shit not Adena's because you don't wanna be needy. 

 

You’re both fully in this relationship now, but it’s still really hard work. You think you see the most complete versions of each other though.

 

Alex knows how you struggled with labels, and sometimes you bounce ideas off him at work. Jane and Sutton have been with you through thick and thin.

 

But there's stuff that Adena is literally the only person in the world who knows about you.  Like your insecurities about your dad's side of the family. Will you regret not getting to know them? What if they can't accept all of you? Will you miss something you never actually had?

 

Sometimes she talks about the people she's lost. Or she lets you talk, listens. Other times you put your head in her lap, soothed by her hands. She lets you not talk. 

 

{}{}{}

 

You stretch your arms and back when Adena gets up, talking in low tones. You don't think anything about it at first. Then she sounds upset and you hate for a moment - a really fucking awful moment - you assume the worst. You tell yourself not to go there, that you’re solid. 

 

"Everything okay?" 

 

She rubs her arms, nodding. "Yes. Firuze had an interesting job prospect, but it's just not the right time." 

 

Listening to Adena talk, you can sense what an amazing opportunity this is, how much Adena's trying to downplay it, and your heart sinks. 

 

"Adena, don't do this." 

 

"Kat, I'm not. I told her-"

 

"No, I mean don't make this about me." You stop, let the emotion in your voice cool down. Because you're not upset, not really. "If this is something you wanna do then do it. I'd never stand between you and your art. I just want you to be honest with me." 

 

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

 

“‘S’okay.”

 

“I just don’t want to repeat the same mistakes.” 

 

“We won’t.” You shrug. “We’ll make different ones.”

 

Her face softens. Adena cradles your face, and the way she's looking at you, you know she can feel your cheeks heat. "I am so fortunate to have you." 

 

You know she's trying, that there was a time that she might not have told where her head’s at like she just did. So you kiss her hair, remind her that you’re not going anywhere.

 

Adena is genuine and flawed and breathtaking. And she wants to be here. She is yours.

 

{}{}{}

 

You let yourself into Adena's apartment with the key she'd given you. She's on a video chat with her mom, and when Adena sees you she smiles and waves you over. You've spoken to her mom and Adena's siblings a few times now, and you've heard your name mixed in with Farsi more than once, but you still like to give them their privacy. You know how much Adena values that time with them. 

 

So you sit and greet her mom, ask how she's doing in Farsi, and you can't help but admire the similarities between her and Adena. 

 

You kiss Adena's temple and start to get up when her mom says something that amuses her. She does that cute ass giggle and everything. 

 

Adena says "She does." in English, the tease, and you can tell by the twinkle in her eyes she's not gonna translate for you. Your face is on fire.

 

{}{}{}

 

There's a women in media conference that invites you to be a guest speaker, and you're doing a Q&A panel with other women under thirty in the industry. This is definitely the biggest crowd you've ever spoken in front of, and you're a little nervous but also super excited.  

 

Angie's taking video and getting content for Insta and Snapchat. And you know exactly where Sutton and Jane and your parents are sitting. But-

 

"Kat." 

 

You turn around, surprised to see your girlfriend backstage. "Hey. What's wrong?" 

 

"Nothing. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay."

 

You smile at her because you've gone over your outline with her more than once. You know your stuff. Then you realize what's up. 

 

"My dad's telling the  _ Wizard of Oz _ story, isn't he?"

 

"He is," she says, grinning a little bigger. "Your mother promised to show the video."

 

You remember that play from fourth grade. You'd gotten stage fright and couldn't remember your lines, so you improvised for like half of it until one of the teachers stood off-stage and whispered them to you. Aside from the fact Sutton's not ever going to forget this, you think it kinda proves your point. You're made for this. 

 

You wrap your arm around Adena now, say, "I'm good." 

 

She cups your face, leans up for a soft kiss. "I love you." 

 

It gives you butterflies of a different kind. "Love you too."

 

A few minutes later the moderator is reading your bio, listing your accomplishments, then "Please welcome Kat Edison." 

 

{}{}{}

 

"Babe? I'm here," you call out, already smelling the spices of dinner from the kitchen. "Jane and Sutton are with me." 

 

They've literally seen every inch of your girlfriend, and they know so many details about your sex life but you just wanna make sure Adena's prepared. Because you'd completely forgotten they were coming over, it's been so hard coordinating schedules. Jane's really immersed in an investigative piece, and Sutton's gotta fly to London for a shoot. Adena's working on a new gallery show. But she'd promised a home-cooked meal to thank them for helping you paint and move into your new place. 

 

She comes over, wiping her hands on a towel as she greets all three of you. "Did you forget you live here as well?" 

 

You peck her smiling lips, say, "Just being careful. Making sure there weren't any surprises."

 

"Mmhm." She leans a little closer. "Maybe later." 

 

Your hands go around her shoulders, hers around your waist, and you're in your own little world for a second.

 

"I think they forgot us," Jane whisper-shouts. 

 

"So do we just start eating or...?"

 

You roll your eyes. "All right, all right." 

 

You're home.

**Author's Note:**

> The summary is literally the tagline for the movie _Love Jones_. You might notice some similarities to that movie, _The Notebook_ , and romantic movies in general. And thank _Crazy Rich Asians_ because I saw it opening weekend and it made me so soft as I was writing this. Thanks for reading.


End file.
